— “Lenya, please, I don’t want this,” Olga was still trying to talk her husband out of his plan the civilized way. “Why are you so determined to ruin our holiday?”
— “Ruin it? Who said anything about ruining it?” Leonid shrugged. “Why are you making it so complicated, Ol? I just want everyone to feel good tonight. New Year’s is a family holiday.”
— “Then let’s celebrate it with just our little family,” Olga said, walking up to him and slipping her arms around his waist, tilting her head up to meet his eyes.
That usually worked. Olga was tiny and fragile, and next to her strongman of a husband she looked like a real-life Thumbelina. Leonid loved the contrast and literally carried her around in his arms. Olga knew it—and she used it, even highlighting their size difference on purpose. But this time the trick didn’t have any effect.
— “Ol, don’t be so selfish,” Leonid said, gently freeing himself from her embrace. “Mom already bought the tickets. I can’t just turn her around and send her home.”
— “Then why did you invite her without even talking to me?” Olga pouted. “Does my opinion mean absolutely nothing to you?”
— “I knew from the start you’d be against it,” Leonid tried to explain patiently. “That’s why I told you after the decision was made. Sorry, baby.”
Olga’s warmth evaporated instantly. The small woman turned into a fury, ready to throw herself at her husband with her fists.
— “So I’m nothing to you, is that it? Nothing?!”
— “Okay, Ol, quiet… we’ll endure a few days,” Leonid looked at her guiltily. “I’m sorry. It’s just one New Year with my mom. It won’t change our life. She’ll leave, and we’ll be back to just the two of us.”
How wrong Leonid was—wrong not only in his forecasts, but in his wife.
Olga didn’t speak to him for half the day, but Leonid decided he could handle it. He’d buy her something tasty, get her a gift certificate to her favorite perfume store—he still had time to smooth things over.
He understood perfectly well why Olga reacted the way she did. She and Irina Konstantinovna had clashed from the very beginning, back at the wedding. His mother was immensely proud of their “stock.” Their whole family was, as they say, made from the same mold—tall, proud, impressive. When she saw the bride, she openly grimaced.
— “Where did you dig up this little runt?” she asked Leonid.
Irina Konstantinovna lived in another city, so she saw her daughter-in-law in person only at the registry office, when nothing could be changed anymore.
— “Mom, stop it,” Leonid had jumped in then. “I’m perfectly happy with her… measurements.”
— “She’ll only spoil the bloodline,” Irina Konstantinovna muttered.
As for Olga’s mother, Elena Pavlovna, she was just as petite as her daughter. But her character was so formidable that, as Olga’s late father used to say, “she could command a whole regiment.” That’s why the young wife didn’t tell her mother about the insult—she knew Elena Pavlovna would start a scandal, and Olga didn’t want to spoil such a big day.
By a strange twist of fate, not long after Leonid and Olga’s wedding, Irina Konstantinovna became a widow too. So both mothers now felt equally entitled to extra attention from their children. The only advantage Elena Pavlovna had was simple: she lived in the same city as the newlyweds and could drop by whenever she wanted.
The fight over Irina Konstantinovna’s visit happened on December 29, and her arrival was scheduled for the morning of the 31st. Leonid reasonably figured that by then Olga would cool down and accept it.
And he was almost right. By that evening Olga acted as though nothing had happened.
— “We need to decorate the tree,” she announced.
A pleased Leonid eagerly supported his wife’s idea. He was sure such a pleasant activity would seal their reconciliation. After decorating the room, they even ordered pizza and sat down to watch a themed holiday movie to set the mood.
As planned, Irina Konstantinovna showed up at their apartment on the morning of December 31. Leonid met her at the station and brought her home by taxi. On the way he repeatedly asked his mother not to show her attitude toward Olga.
— “You have to accept my choice,” Leonid said. “You two should have found common ground a long time ago.”
— “Lenya, I’ll try,” Irina Konstantinovna replied evasively.
Leonid couldn’t say he felt calm. He simply hoped his mother would at least attempt to behave.
Olga greeted her mother-in-law in a house robe, with a mud mask on her face.
— “You walk around like that in front of your husband?” Irina Konstantinovna asked with clear disapproval. “Men shouldn’t see the ‘behind-the-scenes’ part of a woman taking care of herself.”
— “It doesn’t bother him at all,” Olga answered. “Lenya and I are modern people. We don’t even close the bathroom door. You get the idea.”
Irina Konstantinovna looked genuinely shocked and stared at her son in bewilderment. Leonid only cleared his throat awkwardly.
— “Ol, why are you going after my mom the second she walks in?” he said, pulling his wife into the kitchen while Irina Konstantinovna unpacked.
— “I didn’t start it,” Olga replied. “Lenya, let’s agree on this now: warn your mother that I won’t tolerate any remarks in my home. She needs to remember she’s a guest.”
— “Ol, Mom won’t be able to hold back anyway,” Leonid said. “Just try to take it easier.”
Olga stayed silent, but to herself she decided: Not a chance. Not one chance for the enemy.
That was basically the slogan of a women’s community online that Olga had joined before she married Leonid. The members shared everyday wisdom, but most of the conversation was devoted to dealing with mothers-in-law. And the main rule was: boundaries must be set clearly and immediately.
True, the methods suggested were often too radical, even for petty reasons. But Olga had absorbed it all and, as they say, “loaded every cannon,” ready to repel an attack from a sparrow.
Normally Leonid and Olga cooked together, but this time Irina Konstantinovna kicked her son out of the kitchen.
— “Not a man’s job,” she grumbled. “We’ll handle it.”
Olga wasn’t there for that exchange. When she walked into the kitchen, Irina Konstantinovna was already inspecting the fridge. And Olga ran into her husband in the doorway.
— “Where are you going?” she asked.
— “You and Mom can manage without me,” Leonid explained.
— “Then cleaning is on you,” Olga said.
She said it in such a tone that Irina Konstantinovna shot her a displeased look—but kept quiet for the moment.
— “I want to warn you right away: I’ve already decided the menu,” Olga announced. “And I cook only by my recipes.”
Leonid wanted to believe his two favorite women would still find a common language—at least today. But he was wrong. He knew perfectly well that cooking was not his wife’s strong suit.
Olga could boil store-bought dumplings, make pasta, or fry eggs, but Irina Konstantinovna cooked brilliantly. Of course she did. And she couldn’t watch silently for long as her daughter-in-law handled the ingredients. Before long, the kitchen erupted into a full-blown fight.
— “What is going on?” Leonid rushed in to intervene.
His mother was rubbing her temples, and Olga was demonstratively tossing poorly and crookedly chopped vegetables into a trash bag.
— “Lenya, I’m sorry, I couldn’t take it,” Irina Konstantinovna said.
— “So we’re supposed to sit here hungry!” Olga snapped. “Or we’ll order food. I’m not eating your mother’s cooking.”
And Olga stormed out of the kitchen, grabbed her makeup bag, and locked herself in the bathroom “to get herself together.”
— “Mom, I asked you…” Leonid looked at Irina Konstantinovna pleadingly.
— “It was beyond my strength,” she admitted.
In the middle of their argument the intercom buzzed. Leonid didn’t even have time to react when the bathroom door swung open and Olga’s voice rang out from the hallway:
— “Of course, come in!”
Leonid found his wife by the front door.
— “Who is that?” he asked, surprised.
— “A surprise,” Olga answered slyly.
A few minutes later Elena Pavlovna stepped over the threshold, arms loaded with bags.
— “And here I am!” the mother-in-law-to-beamed. “Happy almost New Year!”
— “You?” Leonid blinked. “But…”
— “My mom is celebrating New Year’s with us too,” Olga announced.
— “I cooked so much,” Elena Pavlovna said, nodding at the bags.
The two mothers greeted each other with obvious chill. Irina Konstantinovna watched with displeasure as Elena Pavlovna unloaded containers of salads and aspic onto the table.
— “All my favorites,” Olga clapped her hands.
— “Too bad my son won’t eat half of that,” Irina Konstantinovna said icily, and looked at her daughter-in-law. “Well? Feel calmer now?”
And she set about cooking.
In the end the holiday table was split into two halves. On one side were the dishes brought by Elena Pavlovna; that’s where Elena Pavlovna and Olga sat.
The other half was occupied by the spread prepared by Irina Konstantinovna. And yes—Leonid and his mother sat on that side. The atmosphere was tense.
The TV murmured in the background, and the two “mother-and-child pairs” spoke only to each other. While talking to her mother, Olga accidentally bumped her glass and knocked it over right onto the table. The liquid ran in a steady stream and spilled down into the skirt of Irina Konstantinovna’s dress.
— “Olga, you need to be more careful,” the mother-in-law remarked, blotting her skirt with napkins.
— “Don’t you dare criticize my daughter,” Elena Pavlovna snapped. “Especially in front of me.”
As if on cue, Leonid stood up awkwardly and, with his powerful build, bumped the edge of the table. From the jolt, Elena Pavlovna’s plate slid off and landed upside down right in her lap.
— “Lenya, what are you doing?!” the mother-in-law shrieked.
— “Don’t you criticize my son in front of me!” Irina Konstantinovna shot back, seizing her chance for revenge.
What seemed like a minor squabble over nonsense became the final drop in a glass already brimming with tension.
The women began trading barbs that quickly turned into insults. Their children joined in. By midnight, everyone was furious, and they scattered to different corners. Even the chimes of the Kremlin clock couldn’t bring them back to one table.
After that, Olga went out for a walk with her mother, while Leonid stayed home with his, discussing the disaster.
Elena Pavlovna left for home at dawn—taking her daughter with her. Leonid saw Irina Konstantinovna off at the train on the evening of January 1. She had planned to stay three days, but the plans had to change. The fact that she managed to exchange her ticket at all felt like a miracle.
As soon as the New Year holidays ended, Olga and Leonid filed for divorce.
